feeling small

The pine needles dress the sides of the road like lace on a gypsies dress 

and the sun punches its way through a wall of clouds 

only to find itself in a second battle with the dense Forest canopy 

the leaves and iron trunks try their best to keep the sun from making contact with the soil that lays fertile at it's feet 

afraid of what might grow when the two finally meet 

I move quickly 

sweat dripping 

feet pounding into the pavement that serves no purpose here but to move the parasites to and from their summer homes 

I am not worthy of this place 

hoping this sweat that I leave behind will be payment enough 

maybe it will mate with the sun and soil 

maybe it will grow something more beautiful and brave 

something that belongs and deserving of having its roots dig deep with branches that sway easy with the breeze

allowing the sun to easily kiss the floor below and dress itself in gypsy lace